Eve Rounds

decisions decisions

a somber run
but a fine speed
off to the side
lost in my breath’s greed

at quite some distance many paces behind
ding ding dingdingdingding ding
an utterly obnoxious interruption of mind
not in your way
not a soul to compete with
“BOOM BOOM BABY” tongue click
he shifts into fifth

THIS IS WHY WOMEN HATE MEN
this is why women don’t feel safe
this is why women try too hard and can’t try enough
THIS IS WHY WOMEN HATE MEN

i decide
when i’m objectified
your pent up and countless failed prowesses
doNOT
i decide
when i’m objectified
when i’m gussied in my favorite jeans giggling with the girls
i decide
when i’m objectified
your rapidly increasing intimacy issues
doNOT
i decide
when i’m objectified
when i’m lounging in my man’s vneck toasting with dry hops
i decide
when i’m objectified
your rapidly decreasing ejaculatory control
doNOT
i decide
when i’m objectified
when i FUCKING SAY SO

not when i run
not without eye contact
not if you’re a mojoless DICK

THIS IS WHY WOMEN HATE MEN
this is why women don’t feel nurtured
this is why women give up without believing in
THIS IS WHY WOMEN HATE MEN

i decide
when i’m objectified

PEACE

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards

love

what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you

noise

sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we

Twins

It isn’t easy being a twin.   Others considered us as one two-part person,  while our parents saw,  in our conspiring, four or more.